


Those People Down in Marketing

by neveralarch



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An office AU, where the Master is a programmer and the Doctor is in marketing, and they can't stand each other. Obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those People Down in Marketing

Giles Estram clicked through his email quickly. Spam, idiotic chain emails from his demented grandmother, memos from HR that he had no interest in reading. He hesitated over an email labeled "URGENT OPEN NOW" and then clicked on it, just in case.

"Dearest coworkers," it began, "I know you are all vastly intelligent people. Especially the programmers and all of you in R&D. But intelligent people sometimes make mistakes, and one of those mistakes is failing to brew more coffee when you drink the last cup."

It kept going. The scroll bar was alarmingly small, overwhelmed by the polemic.

"Mel." Estram knocked on the side of his cubicle. "Mel, have you seen this ridiculous email?"

Mel popped up from her adjoining cubicle, leaning over the wall. "Do you mean the Doctor's office-wide memo?"

"Don't call him that," said Estram. "How can you even begin to take him seriously?"

"I didn't think it was that big a deal," said Mel. She shifted slightly as the chair she was standing on rolled back and forth. "He just wants us to fill the coffee pot when it's empty."

"He wrote half of this in verse," said Estram. He scrolled down, glaring at his desktop. "It's longer than my last quarterly report."

"Your last quarterly report said 'we coded all of the things we were told to code.' Hardly a standard for length."

"And yet, he still could have beaten me." Estram rubbed his chin, feeling where the stubble was already starting to recover from his hasty morning shave. Then he opened a reply window. "'Please refill coffee after drinking it,' for instance."

"Are you sending that to him?" Mel squinted at the screen.

"Among other things," said Estram. He smirked to himself as he typed, imagining the exquisite cutting to size which he was about to perform.

"I'm going to do actual work," announced Mel, and dropped back down. The chair clattered and fell over. "Oh, hell!"

Estram hit send before getting up to see if Mel was seriously injured.

\----

Around one, they stopped coding and went to lunch. Sandwiches in the break room, very refined.

"He still hasn't replied," said Estram. "He's probably shocked that someone might challenge him."

"We're not still talking about the Doctor, are we?" Mel rolled her eyes. "So much time spent chatting about this guy you don't even _like_."

"'Don't like' is an understatement," corrected Estram. "I loathe him. I can't stand him."

"You're so melodramatic," said Mel. "He's all right. A bit eccentric."

"He's in marketing, you're allowed to call him insane. He makes us call him _Doctor_."

"He's proud of his higher education," said Mel.

"So am I, and I don't make anyone call me _Master_ ," said Estram.

"Well, maybe that's because you have a masters in English lit," said Mel. She poked at her sandwich. "Why do I keep making myself egg salad? It's never quite right after five hours of sitting around in the fridge."

"He tried to strangle Peri," said Estram, ignoring Mel's attempt to change the subject.

"He was delirious," Mel took a bite of her sandwich, her next words coming a bit muffled. "He had food poisoning, I think. He went to the hospital after."

"Yes, but Peri left after that, didn't she? He got rid of our best PA."

"She met that rich guy with the beard, and moved to his private island. I'm pretty sure you can't blame the Doctor for that."

"Oh," said Estram, finally looking down at his own ham sandwich, "oh, I can blame Doctor Smith for a lot of things."

\---

Doctor Smith, for his part, was waiting at Estram's cubicle when they got back from lunch. Mel took one look at Estram's face, and announced that she had to deliver papers to HR.

"I got your email," said Doctor Smith. He was wearing a yellow shirt with pink pinstripes, and a blue-and-white polkadotted tie. Estram fought the urge to avert his eyes.

"Did you," he said. "The traditional approach is to send one back."

"I felt that a face-to-face might help move things along faster." Doctor Smith shrugged his shoulders. "I have no intention of getting involved in a little 'flame-war.'"

"Pity," said Estram. He pushed past Smith and into his cubicle. "Your awful tie could use some burning."

"I see what this is," said Doctor Smith. His voice rose to those very pompous heights it so often achieved. "You're still upset about the Christmas party."

"Christmas party?" Estram sat down. "I don't know what you're referring to."

"You know." Smith made an eloquent gesture with his left hand, and his mouth puckered up into what would have been a truly awful kiss. "That."

"You must have mistaken someone else for me," said Estram, through gritted teeth. "I wasn't even at the Christmas party."

"Now, _really_."

"Keller looks an awful lot like me," suggested Estram.

"He's shorter, older, and he has a beard," said Doctor Smith. "Though you might look passable with a beard. I'm not sure."

"I've tried growing one," said Estram. "Mel said it made me look like an evil mastermind."

"Yes, I can imagine-" Doctor Smith shook his head, his golden curls bouncing. "No. I will not be sidetracked. You cannot seriously expect me to believe that I snogged the wrong person and never noticed."

"Obviously, your obsession with me has led you to imagine an encounter in the stationary cupboard." Estram shook his head as well, though his slicked-back hair probably didn't look as exciting in motion as Smith's did. "I suggest seeking help from a qualified professional in order to deal with these hallucinations."

" _My_ obsession with _you_?" sputtered the Doctor. He gaped for a moment before his brain caught up with what Estram had said. "Wait, hold on a minute, I never said anything about a cupboard."

"It was a joke." Estram fought a twinge of panic, but managed to keep a straight face. "You didn't actually have sex with Keller amongst the stationary, did you?"

"No," said Smith, confused.

"Well, there you are, then," said Estram. "Now, if you'll leave me to code in peace-"

"I am having trouble understanding why you're working so hard at denying everything," said Smith. He had recovered his aplomb, and was glaring at Estram. "You had no objections at the party, and Mel says that you've done nothing but talk of me since."

"That traitor," hissed Estram. "Let me make everything clear." His voice rose, and he got up out of his chair again. "You are an idiotic genius, with no sense of fashion or even which colors can never be put on the same shirt. You make people call you by your silly little title, and you work in _marketing_." He stalked closer, the need to see Smith's reddening angry face in greater detail overwhelming his desire to stay as far away from the man as possible. "You need a haircut, a lesson in manners, and a shopping trip with a responsible adult." Estram's breath ghosted across Smith's nose, and he started to take a step back.

Smith grabbed his arm, speechless at last. Estram looked at his arm, and then back at Smith. He wasn't taking well to being insulted, and now Estram was remembering why he had slept with Smith in the first place.

"Oh god, Smith, you're gorgeous when you're angry," whispered Estram, too worked up to care about the cliche.

"You- you ridiculous-" Smith drew a breath. "Call me the Doctor," he said, and covered Estram's mouth with his own before Estram could argue.

Estram bit Smith's lip and pulled on his tie, and Smith dragged his fingers through Estram's hair. They pulled away from each other after a moment, both panting heavily.

"I _knew_ it," said Smith. "You insult me because you're infatuated with me, I knew-" and then it was Estram's turn to shut him up. After a few moments, he almost forgot why he was kissing Smith in the first place.

"Excuse me," said a voice. They both turned to see the manager, Evelyn Smythe, looking at them indulgently. Estram pushed Smith away from him, hurriedly.

"I'm glad you've finally resolved things," said Evelyn. "But I have a strict policy of no PDAs in the coding area. Real-life sexuality confuses the other programmers."

"Are you insulting programmers?" Estram tried to work up some real anger while still tasting the Doctor on his teeth.

"All of them except you, dear," said Evelyn. "Get back to work soon, now." She wandered away to scold someone else.

"Are we going home together after work?" asked Smith.

"My place," said Estram. "I don't want to know what sort of horrible shack you call home."

But his disdain felt feigned, and Smith just smiled at him. Estram's knees wobbled a little. He sat down and coded and tried to pretend that he wasn't just a little sappy at his core. Smith went off to do whatever marketers do with their time.

"So," said Mel, appearing from the corridor. "Absolutely can't stand the guy, huh?"


End file.
